Anonymous
by runningthroughtheroses
Summary: A is for "anonymous." Or at least that's what Aria tells herself once she and her friends start receiving threatening messages from someone who seems to know everything about them. But Aria is beginning to lose chunks of time, and her memory is slipping. Does A really stand for anonymous…or something else?
1. Chapter 1

**It's finally here! I've been talking about "Anonymous" for so long now, and here we are. Please review to let me know what you think of the first chapter! I have the first five or so chapters of this written, and as of now I'm planning on updating about every week.**

 **If anyone is interested, the trailer that I made for this story can be found on my Youtube channel. The link is in my profile!**

Chapter 1

Aria pulled the maroon, spaghetti strap dress on over her head and stepped in front of her full length mirror, holding her arms out at her sides to get a look at her reflection.

But she really wasn't looking at herself at all. Her eyes drifted away from the dress that hugged her figure, away from the dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders, and her wide, brown eyes, to the room behind her.

It was the same room she had left behind a year ago, the same wood walls and bed shoved into the corner. But with all of her stuff still packed away in boxes instead of hanging on the walls or placed carefully on the dresser, she couldn't really call it her bedroom.

"Glad to be home?" a voice spoke from the doorway, and a moment later Aria's mom appeared in the mirror behind her, her hands moving to rest on Aria's shoulders.

Aria shrugged, turning away from her reflection. "I guess so," she said with a bit of reluctance. "The past year just seems like a huge blur. I feel like I barely remember any of it."

Ella blinked. "Iceland was a great experience," she said, adding quickly, "But I'm sure you'll be glad to see your friends again."

Aria nodded, but she was unsure. Her family had moved to Iceland what seemed like days after Alison's disappearance that night at the sleepover in Spencer's barn. For all she knew, her old best friends weren't even talking anymore. After all, Alison had really been the glue that held them all together.

Before Aria could figure out how to communicate all of that to her mom, Mike appeared in the doorway, already slinging his old lacrosse bag over his shoulder. "Tryouts are today!" he called out eagerly. "I need a ride to the school!"

"I'll take him," Aria volunteered, picking up her keys.

Ella raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem." Driving Mike to the school would give her the opportunity to take a look around Rosewood. And anyway, she had been home for fifteen minutes and she already felt suffocated. Her parents had been giving her concerned glances ever since they'd passed the "Welcome to Rosewood" sign, almost like they expected her to burst into tears or flames or something at the slightest memory of what had happened just before they'd left.

Aria followed Mike out the door and into the car, and five minutes later he was leaping out in front of Rosewood High School. "What time am I picking you up?" she called out the window before he could bolt away.

Shrugging, Mike glanced back at the group of boys heading for the field, all of them carrying gym bags and lacrosse sticks. "I don't know, six?" Before Aria could get a more definite answer, he was running to join the others.

Aria sighed and leaned her head back against the seat, starting the car. It was just after four. Two hours would give her plenty of time to explore Rosewood, that was for sure.

She drove aimlessly, not even sure where she was going until she ended up right in front of the DiLaurentis house. Startled, Aria released the wheel, remembering to push down on the brake just in time. She had promised herself on the flight back from Iceland that she wouldn't think about what happened to Alison. She'd wanted to start fresh.

And now here she was, right back where she started. She closed her eyes and let out a breath of frustration.

…

When Aria opened her eyes again after a few moments, feeling a bit more composed, she gasped out loud.

The DiLaurentis house was nowhere in sight, and instead of sitting in her car, leaning back against the leather seat, she was standing on the hard concrete. She swiveled her head to the left and right, stunned. She was still on one of Rosewood's polished streets, about two blocks away from where she'd last been. Her car was parked along the curb a few feet away.

Had she _driven_ herself here? How could she not remember? Aria moved to press her hand to her suddenly throbbing forehead when she realized that she was not empty-handed. A piece of paper was crumbled in her fist.

Suddenly, inexplicably nervous, she unfolded the paper, holding it tightly between her hands.

A picture of Alison practically glowed up at her, alongside the words, "Missing. Alison DiLaurentis. Would now be 16."

Aria couldn't tear her eyes away. She'd seen the poster – it was all over pretty much every telephone pole and shop window in town, she'd seen a ton of them as her family drove through town on the way to their house just a few hours ago.

Her head was pounding and she groaned, looking around. She just couldn't figure out how she'd gotten here, with this poster. The last thing she remembered was dropping Mike off at the school and driving around, somehow ending up right in front of the DiLaurentis' house. _Alison's_ house.

She wasn't drunk or something, was she? Maybe she'd gone to that bar, the one on the outskirts of town that didn't really care much about IDs, and had drowned out her fears of being back in Rosewood until she couldn't remember anything.

Aria scrunched up her eyes, concentrating. She had the vaguest memory of driving, but nothing more…almost like the whole year she'd spent in Iceland. Just one big blur.

"Hey," a deep voice called, and Aria spun around, still feeling a little out of control of her own body.

A young guy, probably in his early twenties or so, was jogging up to her. His hair was dark and curly, and she couldn't pull her gaze away from his blue eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, stopping in front of her and looking down at her in concern.

Aria instinctively crumbled the missing poster back into her fist. She wondered briefly what she looked like – judging by how panicked she felt, probably not very good. Suddenly self-conscious, she clasped her hands behind her back. "Yeah, I'm, um, I'm fine."

"I was stopped at the light when I saw you stumbling around," the guy said worriedly, nodding at the traffic light at the corner of the block. "I thought I should check on you, make sure you're okay."

"Yeah," Aria said again, shaking her head to try and clear her mind. "I just…" She faltered, not wanting to freak him out further by telling him the truth. She didn't want him to think she was crazy or anything. "I just got back from Iceland," she finished weakly, glad that at least she didn't have to lie. "Jet lag, you know."

"Iceland?" the guy repeated, and Aria was relieved to see his expression change, the concern melting away into curiosity. "Really. I spent a summer in Reykjavik."

"That's where I lived," Aria replied, smiling. Her heart was finally beginning to calm down, and she had a feeling that talking to this guy was helping. He was looking at her with a kind of interest that she was not used to. She'd spent so long in Alison's shadow, as the weird, artsy girl with a pink stripe in her hair, that it was strange to suddenly have this kind of attention from a guy. An _older_ guy, too.

"It's such an inspiring place," the guy said, stepping closer and leaning against a telephone pole – presumably the same one that the poster had come from. "I got so much more writing done while I was there."

"You write?" Aria burst out before she could stop herself. She stared up at him, wondering briefly how old he was. She couldn't imagine any of the guys her own age being interested in writing or poetry the way that she was.

"A little," the guy said with an embarrassed shrug. "I've never really been able to get into it. But maybe that'll change once I start my first teaching job." He paused and laughed a little, extending his hand. "I'm Ezra, by the way."

Aria grasped his hand, noticing his strong grip. "Aria," she replied, pulling her hand away with reluctance. "Yeah, um, I do some writing, myself."

Ezra smiled, and Aria couldn't help but smile in return. It was now clear that he had to be at least several years older than her – old enough to be teaching, anyway – but somehow that only made him more attractive. Aria had never really liked the typical immature boys her own age, anyway.

"I bet you're a great writer," Ezra was saying, sounding genuinely interested. "I'd love to read some of your stuff sometime."

Aria took a step closer, suddenly glad that they were alone on the sidewalk. "Yeah…that'd be great."

He leaned down, and suddenly they were kissing, practically pressed up against the telephone pole. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck, the piece of paper balled up in her fist forgotten.

She'd had a boyfriend in Iceland, just for a few months, but he was only a faint memory now. And that was nothing compared to this. This actually felt _real._ Ezra's arm encircled her waist, and Aria was sure that she'd never felt this alive.

But he pulled away all too soon, leaving her leaning back against the telephone pole. "I really have to go," he said breathlessly, glancing at his watch. "But do you, uh, want me to drive you anywhere?"

"No," Aria gasped, smoothing back her hair. "My car's right there."

Ezra gave a lopsided smile, his face reddening. "Well…hey, I'm teaching in the area. So maybe I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she said with what she hoped was a sophisticated nod. She resisted the urge to ask him for his number – that suddenly seemed so juvenile. "See you around."

He smiled once more at her, then turned and headed back for his car, honking the horn as he pulled away from the sidewalk.

Aria smiled to herself, watching his car turn the corner. Maybe moving back to Rosewood wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Now with no distractions, she suddenly became aware of the pressure in her hand, and undid her fist. The missing poster was crinkled up in a ball. Rolling her eyes, Aria smoothed it out for the second time. For the first time in this town, she didn't feel like she was living in Alison's shadow. She missed her old best friend like crazy, but maybe her disappearance didn't have to be all bad.

Aria glanced around for a garbage can to throw away the crumpled flyer, turning it over in her hand as she did so. She frowned down at it, wrinkling her nose in curiosity. The back of the poster was blank, except for one thing.

A large, red letter "A" occupied the bottom right corner.

…

The first thing I lay eyes on is one of those stupid posters.

Of course. Even now that she's gone, Alison is never really _gone_. Everyone still has to deal with seeing her face plastered all over town, begging for her return. And she would have loved it. There was nothing Alison loved more than being the center of attention.

I'm suddenly shaking so badly that I can barely control myself. I rip the poster off of the pole, crushing it in my hand, but that doesn't do anything to alleviate my anger.

So I reach into the smallest pocket of my bag, my hands closing on the red marker that I knew would be there. I've started carrying it around, waiting for an opportunity like this.

I uncap the marker and turn the poster over. Writing on the front is too obvious. And the whole point to my game is secrecy, illusion.

My hand still shaking in anger, I dig the felt tip of the marker against the crumpled back of the flyer and write my signature in the bottom corner.

The bright red letter glows up at me, and I feel a little better.

...

 **Again, let me know what you think! Your feedback is always appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**THANK YOU guys for five great reviews! I appreciate you all for reviewing, favoriting, and following. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter - please let me know what you think! If I keep getting good feedback, I think I'm going to start uploading on Wednesdays as well as Saturdays. A week just feels too long between each chapter for me.**

Chapter 2

By the time Mike's lacrosse tryouts were over, six o'clock had come and gone. Aria tapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as she watched her younger brother say goodbye to his friends and make his way back to the car. It was nearly seven, and she'd gone directly back to the school's parking lot after meeting Ezra on the street. That had left her with nothing to do for two hours. She'd even taken a nap just a short while ago.

"Hey," Mike yelled, leaping into the car enthusiastically. "I made the team!"

"Great," Aria muttered, irritated. "We're way late for dinner, we're gonna have to pick up some food on the way."

She pulled out of the parking lot and instinctively headed for home, using the route she'd always used before Iceland. But five minutes later, she pulled up at the stop sign at the corner of Alison's old street and paused, then flicked off the turn signal.

She'd always gone down this street on her way home from school, but she didn't think she could manage driving past that house again. God forbid something else strange happen. And really, did one extra block really make a difference?

She was just about to continue on when Mike let out a shout of, "Whoa, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Aria asked, but she was already swiveling her head in the direction that he was staring, open-mouthed.

There was a commotion going on halfway down the street. An ambulance was just pulling up, its lights flashing, alongside three parked police cars. Another ambulance was pulled partially into the street. A small crowd had gathered around a house, and Aria could hear voices even from the next street.

But all of this wasn't going on at just any house. It was the DiLaurentis' house.

Ignoring the beeping from the horn of the car behind her, Aria made a sharp left and pulled the car up along the curb. "Stay here," she ordered Mike, and leapt out of the car without waiting for his inevitable protests.

She practically ran down the street to the DiLaurentis' house, hearing her heart pounding in her ears. No. It couldn't be. Alison had been missing for an entire year. It was way too late for any sort of discovery.

The front lawn of the house was a blur of vehicles and people, but Aria focused in on a person with familiar brown hair standing near where the DiLaurentis' front lawn met the next door neighbors'.

"Spence," she called, and Spencer Hastings turned, her worried frown changing to a look of surprise.

"Aria," she said, hugging the smaller girl. "I didn't know you were back."

"I just got back today," Aria said distractedly, her eyes still on the two men pulling something out of the back of one of the ambulances. Was that…was that a _gurney?_ "What's going on?" she asked Spencer nervously, her voice shaking.

"Remember that old gazebo plot that Ali's parents were building?" Spencer said in a low voice, her eyes flitting around.

Aria finally glanced at her, nodding. "Yeah."

"Well, a new family just moved into the house today," she went on, and Aria blinked in surprise. She hadn't even known that the DiLaurentis' had moved, but she supposed it made sense. Who _would_ want to live in a house with that many memories? "They went out to take a look at the old plot and they…found something."

Aria felt like her heart had just dropped into her stomach. Dozens of possibilities, each more revolting than the next, began to swirl through her mind. "What was it?" she asked hoarsely.

Spencer scrunched up her nose, shaking her head. "Someone painted a big red letter 'A' right over the place where the gazebo was supposed to be built. They called the police. Everyone thinks it has something to do with Alison, you know, that's what the 'A' stood for."

Aria could only stare at her old best friend, speechless. "Did – did they dig it up? Why are there so many ambulances?" she stammered finally, a chill sweeping through her.

Spencer looked grim. "They just started digging. The ambulances are just precautionary."

For some reason, that above everything made Aria's head spin. "Come on," Spencer muttered, tugging on her arm. "Let's see if we can get back there." She pointed in the direction of the backyard.

Aria pulled her arm away, suddenly shaking. "I – I don't think so."

"What?" Spencer's eyebrows shot up. "Aria, this was our best friend. We have to find out what's going on."

"It's probably nothing," Aria said quickly, trying to convince herself just as much as Spencer. "Just a prank or a joke or something."

Spencer gave a snort, clearly not convinced. "Pretty funny joke."

"I have to go," Aria mumbled. Her head was spinning. "I can't deal with this, not on my first day back here."

"Wait – " Spencer started, but Aria was already moving away from her, pushing her way through the crowd as best she could in her frazzled state. The crowd was all blending together, and a buzzing filled her ears, so loudly that she could barely hear Spencer's shout of, "Call me later!"

…

The following morning was bright and sunny, with not a cloud in the sky and the sun beaming over Rosewood.

It was wrong, Emily decided as she trudged out to get the mail. Her long, dark hair was still pulled back in a messy ponytail and she hadn't changed out of the sweats that she had slept in.

What was the point? Alison was dead. Her body had been dug up, found right underneath that mysterious bright red letter "A."

It made Emily sick to her stomach whenever she thought about it. Apparently the letter had appeared there seemingly out of nowhere, the paint already dry as if it had been there for hours. Almost like the end of a treasure map. "A" marks the spot.

And when the officers had dug right through the dirt where the letter was painted, there it was. Alison's body. She had been buried there for a whole year and nobody had known.

Emily stopped, her hand on the mailbox at the end of the walkway. She felt a little unsteady. She'd been telling herself for months that Alison was dead – even though she'd never been able to get rid of that tiny sliver of hope that the only girl she'd ever loved would come bounding up the porch steps one day and fling her arms around Emily.

She took in a deep, shuddering breath, glad that at least she hadn't been there when they'd found the body. Spencer had, and she'd called Emily that night to see how she was doing. It was strange, kind of. She and Spencer hadn't exchanged more than a pleasant greeting in the past six months, and last night they'd talked for nearly half an hour.

Once again, it was Alison who was bringing them closer together.

Emily, finally composed, was just opening the mailbox and reaching for the small pile of letters inside when movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Toby Cavanaugh was walking past her house.

Emily couldn't breathe. She stumbled back, barely wincing as her shoulder blade connected with the mailbox. Toby's hands were shoved into his pockets, his eyes focused on the concrete as he walked, but he seemed to notice her staring, because he glanced up for one brief moment, his eyes meeting hers, before quickening his pace and looking down once again.

The summer before Alison disappeared (or died, she supposed), Alison had shown up at Emily's house, completely frazzled and angry. She'd claimed that she had spotted Toby in a tree right outside her bedroom window, spying on her as she'd gotten undressed. She'd begged Emily to help her do something about it, and she'd had the perfect suggestion.

For anyone else, anyone at all, Emily would never have gone along with such a dangerous plan. But when it came to Alison, she was like a spineless jellyfish. She probably would've punched Toby in the face herself if Alison had asked her to.

But what she'd actually done was worse. So, so much worse.

Ali had promised no one would get hurt. She'd said it was just a silly prank, something she'd have done herself if she wasn't so afraid to go near that house.

Except…someone _had_ gotten hurt. And for some reason, a reason that Emily could never figure out, Toby had taken the blame. He'd been shipped off to juvie, and Emily had forced herself to put him, and what she'd done, out of her mind.

And now he was back.

She watched his retreating frame as he continued down the sidewalk, finally walking up onto the porch of his own house. He slipped inside and she shivered, turning away. It was easy enough to forget about the horrible thing that she'd done when Toby was locked up. Out of sight, out of mind (as inappropriate as that saying might have been in this situation).

Simultaneous feelings of terror and guilt flooded through Emily. As far as she knew, the only person who knew the truth about that night was Alison. And she was dead. But that didn't mean that Emily wasn't going to feel terrible about it for the rest of her life.

Feeling much worse than when she'd walked outside, Emily pulled out the mail, looking through it for any college flyers – Danby was particularly eager to contact her – or a magazine, anything normal to distract her.

But instead, her hand closed around a thick piece of paper, folded crudely in half and not even stuffed in an envelope. Emily's name was scrawled on the front.

Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she unfolded the paper and felt her eyes widen even more, her heart speeding up in terror as she read the note written in messy, bright red ink.

 _You should see the look on your face. Too bad Jenna can't. –A_

…

I wish that I didn't have to hide.

Of course I understand why. I can't just go stand around out in the open while a body is being dug up. As soon as the officers discovered that there was more to my cryptic little message than just a prank, they forced the media and the crowd away from the house.

But I'm undetectable, crouched down in all black behind a cluster of bushes, with a perfect view of the men digging at the dirt. The letter I painted on the ground is barely visible now, just a few flecks of red here and there.

It would be nice to have a view free of branches, though. It's hard to enjoy this moment when the wind keeps pushing leaves in my face.

A shout of alarm rings out from the officers, and a moment later they're leaning in, reaching down and yelling for a body bag.

I turn away. I like things that are vague and spooky, mysterious. Not gruesome.

I don't need to see this.


	3. Chapter 3

**A big thank you to potterjay92, AWPuRpLePoPtArT, nick2951, .2005, and lkjh for reviewing, and to those who followed and favorited. I appreciate the feedback! I promise that updates are going to be coming a lot faster now that my schedule has cleared up a bit. Next chapter should be up on Wednesday. Please review!**

Chapter 3

Aria kept her head down as she walked to her first ever junior year English class. It was only the first day of school but she already felt out of place, like she had gone away to Iceland and matured while everyone in Rosewood had stayed exactly the same.

And it didn't help that practically everyone was staring at her. Before she'd moved, she'd been the friend of that girl who disappeared. Now she was the friend of that girl who was murdered. That was probably worse.

She exchanged a smile with Spencer as she stopped at her locker, and did a double take at Hanna when she walked into the classroom. Her former short, pudgy friend was now thin and tall, with perfectly curled hair and an outfit that made her look at least five years older than she really was.

Slightly caught off-guard, Aria slipped into a seat in the back of the room, not noticing until she heard her name that she was sitting beside Emily. "Aria? Hey!"

"Hey," Aria said in surprise, glancing over.

"I thought I saw you the other day," Emily said quietly, trying to smile but not succeeding. "Outside of the DiLaurentis' house. But with everything going on, I couldn't really…" She trailed off, casting her eyes down at her desk.

Aria sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I was there," she mumbled. "It's so weird, isn't it?"

Emily looked slightly near tears, but shrugged, her voice tight. "Not really. I mean, it's not like we all didn't already know she was dead, right?"

Flinching, Aria looked away from her old friend, chipping at her nail polish as the new teacher walked in and turned his back on them to write on the board. She knew that Emily had had feelings for Alison – heck, _everybody_ knew. Aria couldn't imagine what she must have been feeling.

What Aria couldn't believe was that Alison's parents weren't having a proper funeral, just a small, closed one for family only. Not even Aria and the others, Alison's very best friends, were invited. According to Aria's mom, who had spoken over the phone with Jessica DiLaurentis, they wanted to get the whole thing over with. It was just too painful.

It was a shame, Aria decided as she watched the teacher write the name Mr. Fitz in neat handwriting on the front board. Alison would have hated such a tiny little service. She would've wanted to know that she would be popular in both life and death.

"Good morning everyone," the new teacher was saying, in a deep voice that was suddenly strikingly familiar. Aria felt her back stiffen. "My name is Mr. Fitz and I'll be your new…"

His voice trailed off just as Aria raised her eyes, and promptly felt her heart stop.

She was staring right at Ezra. And he was looking back at her, shock written all over his suddenly-pale face.

After a moment of tension that seemed to sweep across the room, students began to fidget. Emily frowned, glancing at Aria in confusion, and Spencer turned around in her seat to try and figure out who the new teacher was staring at. Hanna immediately pulled out her phone and surreptitiously began a new Twitter status.

Once an uncomfortably long amount of time had passed, Ezra cleared his throat, snapping back to reality. "Um," he muttered, coughing and reddening, "as I was…as I was saying, I'll be your new English teacher. So, um…okay, well, let's take roll, and then I'll pass out your books."

Aria spent the rest of class in a trance. She felt like her body had gone into shock. _He told you he was a teacher,_ a strange little voice in the back of her head taunted. _And you knew he was older than you._

But _still._ What were the odds that the sophisticated, amazing guy she'd met the day before would turn out to be her freaking English teacher? First Alison's body was discovered, and now this. Aria was beginning to think that Rosewood was like her own personal bad luck charm.

So lost in her own rambling thoughts, she wasn't even aware that class was over until she was practically the last one in the room. Emily, standing near the door, gave her a quizzical look. "Aria. Are you coming?"

"Huh?" Aria's head snapped up, and she blinked dazedly. "Oh, um, yeah, I'll…I'll just see you later, okay?"

"Sure," Emily agreed, looking a little confused, but headed out, leaving Aria and Ezra alone.

The moment the door closed behind her, Ezra turned to Aria, his face going through several different shades of red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while Aria leaned her hand against a desk, watching him cautiously.

At last, Ezra coughed and cleared his throat, finally seeming to regain the ability to speak. "You – you didn't tell me you were in high school."

"You didn't ask," she replied weakly, offering a shrug.

"I thought you were in _college,_ " he muttered hoarsely, his face going from bright red to pale white. "You told me you just got back from Iceland…"

Aria walked a few paces forward, unable to keep from smiling. "With my family," she clarified. "And anyway, you said this is your first teaching job. It's not like I'm that much younger than you. This isn't such a big deal."

"Aria," Ezra said sternly, though his voice was wavering. He ran a hand through his dark hair and Aria felt her heart skip a beat. "I am your _English teacher._ This is a _huge_ deal."

Finally picking up on the near panic in his voice, Aria held out her hands, her eyes widening. "Okay. Okay, then…what do we do?"

They stared at each other for a long moment. Aria was barely breathing. She could see the brightness in his eyes, the same way that he had looked at her the day before, like she was the only thing he could see.

They had something. Twenty minutes with Ezra had felt more real than months with other boys. Could they really throw away such amazing possibilities over this one little hitch?

But Ezra shook his head, almost unnoticeably, and lowered his eyes. "We can't do this," he mumbled, shooting a nervous look at the closed door, students streaming by. "You understand why we can't do this, right?"

She did, but she found herself taking another step toward him, slowly. "Yeah…but you realize why I can't just start calling you Mr. Fitz now, right? Not after…"

"Aria." Now it was Ezra who took a step closer to her, wrapping his hand around her arm. Tingles shot up her spine at his touch. "Everything is different now. We have to pretend like yesterday never happened."

He was right, she knew. Suddenly her arm, under his touch, felt like it was blazing. She pulled away, blinking fast. "I guess you're right." It was way too small in this room. If she stayed in here alone with him for one more moment, she wasn't sure what she would do.

So Aria stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Goodbye, Ezra." Taking in a shaky breath, she brushed past him, heading for the door.

And then he grabbed her arm and was pulling her back, his lips practically colliding with hers as he spun her around to face him. She linked her hands together behind his neck.

The sound of the first bell ringing pulled them apart. "You should go," Ezra breathed, his face flushed again, but for a very different reason this time.

Aria stared into his eyes for a moment, her brain barely comprehending what he'd said. It felt like stars were dancing in her vision. "Yeah," she whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it quickly. "Can I…can I see you later?"

This time, it didn't seem like he had the restraint to protest. Still looking a bit dazed, he said quietly, "Not here," then scratched down the name of a local apartment building, along with his apartment number, on a piece of paper. Smiling, he slipped it into her hand. "How about dinner tonight?"

"Age is just a number," Aria replied with a grin, folding up the paper and slipping it into her pocket. "I'll be there." Fighting down the urge to kiss him again – students would be coming in any minute – she turned on her heel and practically ran out.

Once in the hallway, the stars in her eyes were growing larger. Suddenly out of breath, Aria leaned against the wall, the teens walking and shoving and laughing around her barely in focus. She closed her eyes against the onset of dizziness.

The sound of water running forced her eyes open, moments later.

 _Water running?_

Aria stared, perplexed, around her new surroundings. She was no longer in the hallway in the English wing. She was in the girls bathroom. The door was shut and locked – why was there a lock on the bathroom door, she wondered vaguely – and the row of three sinks in front of her were all turned on, full blast.

And they were overflowing. Water was pouring from each faucet, the sinks filled to the brim. Steam floated up from the water as it streamed over the edges of the sinks, adding to the already large puddle on the floor, nearly up to Aria's ankles now.

She gasped, backing up against the door of one of the stalls. "Oh my god." How had she gotten here? Had someone moved her? Had she been knocked out in what seemed like the brief moments between when she was left Ezra's classroom and now? Or had she…had she gotten here on her own?

Feeling her claustrophobia begin to set in, Aria rushed forward, wincing as the blistering hot water dampened her cloth shoes, and reached out through the layer of steam to twist off the faucets.

Her breathing coming fast and hard, she waved her hands wildly to clear the fog. Her heart was racing. This was the second time in two days that she had found herself in a completely different place, with no recollection of how she had gotten there. Glancing down at the watch on her wrist, Aria felt herself freeze up with terror. Almost an hour had passed since she'd left Ezra.

Gasping out loud, nearly crying in fear now, she stumbled back from the sinks just as the remainder of the mist cleared from the air, revealing the words written in the steam on the mirrors above the sinks.

 _Still like to play with fire, don't you? –A_

…

He keeps the key under the welcome mat.

I mean, really? Under the freaking welcome mat? It's almost like he's _asking_ me to break in.

But it's not really breaking in, I remind myself as I angle the key into the door of apartment 3B and push it open. It's not even breaking and entering. It's just entering. And there's nothing really wrong with that.

Not that I'd care if there was. In fact, I almost wish I _was_ breaking in.

His apartment is smaller than I'd like. Just one room, with a kitchen on one side, a living space on the other, and a bed pushed up against the far corner. An old black typewriter sits on the desk.

I let out a harsh laugh that bounces around the tiny space. The key under the mat and a typewriter? This guy is like a caricature of an English teacher, like one big cliché.

But there's a degree from Hollis College propped against the desk. And most of the books strewn around seem old and well-weathered, so he probably knows a thing or two about literature.

I walk across the apartment, my black boots clunking against the wooden floor, and take a seat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little and pushing back up my hood.

This isn't perfect. But it'll do.

And so will he.

For now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I have to say that I wasn't too enthusiastic about updating after such a lack of feedback on the last chapter. A big thank you to potterjay92 for being my only reviewer! Guys, please, please review. I decided to stick to updating on Wednesday, as I'd promised, but I will likely go back to once a week if I don't start getting some more feedback. So please let me know what you think! This chapter is where things start to heat up.**

Chapter 4

 _"_ _We have to do something about this."_

 _Alison's voice sounded faint and disjointed, almost like she was speaking through a cardboard tube, though she was only standing a few feet away. Aria paced in front of her, keeping her eyes locked firmly on the ground and focusing only on the pounding of her heart in her ears._

 _She forced herself not to look at the old leather sofa, where who knows_ what _had gone on between her dad and that student, or at the diplomas behind the desk – yeah, her father sure was quite the educator…or at the family photo on the wall…_

 _"_ _Come on." Alison's voice urged her back to reality. "You don't want daddy dearest to catch us in here, do you?"_

 _Aria folded her arms uncomfortably. Even being in here gave her the creeps. "I don't want to be here at all," she insisted, twisting a strand of her pink streaked hair around her finger. "Come on, Ali, let's just go."_

 _"_ _Aria," Alison said sharply, sounding, like she tended to, about ten years older than Aria. "We can't let him get away with this. If you're not going to tell your mom that your dad's sleeping with some slut, we need to make sure he ends it himself." A smile began to spread across her face, and she opened her purse._

 _Aria felt a twinge of uneasiness. "Ali," she said warningly, taking a step toward her friend. "What are you – "_

 _Her grin widening vicariously, Alison pulled her hand back out of her purse. Clutched in her fist was a box of matches. "I think this'll get the message across."_

 _"_ _What message?" Aria felt paralyzed with nerves._

 _Alison began to stride casually around the perimeter of the room, her eyes flitting across every surface. "When you play with fire," she said slowly, stopping in front of the sofa and bending down, sticking her hand between the cushions, "you get burned."_

 _Another pulse of fear shot through Aria's stomach, and she raced over, her brow furrowed. "Ali, no. We can't – "_

 _But she stopped short as Ali's face lit up in triumph. She pulled back from the couch, dangling from her hand something tiny and bronze, with a pink gem glinting in its center._

 _An earring._

 _"_ _We can't what?" Alison said, tossing the earring to Aria, who caught it without thinking. Her mind was racing. She'd known that her dad was having an affair with one of his students – he'd been acting weird even before she and Ali caught him with her in his car._

 _But this…this was physical proof that it was still going on. Anger seized her heart. He'd told her it was over. He'd said what she'd seen was the end of something, not the beginning. He'd…lied to her._

 _"_ _Give it to me," Aria commanded, but it didn't even feel like her own voice. It was like she was being controlled by someone else, by her own rage, watching her own hand reach out to take the box of matches from Ali._

 _Her hands were shaking so badly that it took her a few tries to light one of the matches. Without hesitation, she strode over to a picture of the four of them – her parents, Mike, and herself – surrounded by a wooden frame. She held the flame up to it, and it ignited._

 _Aria stared at the small fire, watching, mesmerized, as the orange flames jumped and spread, until it wasn't so small anymore. The flames nipped at the wall and all at once, Aria was in control of her actions again._

 _She whirled around to Alison just in time to see her blonde friend's eyes widen at the growing size of the fire. "Ali – "_

 _"_ _We have to get out of here," Alison said immediately, pulling the matches out of Aria's hand and grabbing her arm. "Come on."_

 _Aria allowed herself to be dragged out of her father's office and down the hallway. But then she paused, peering into the room beside it. An older man was seated at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers. He was one of her father's colleagues. He'd been to her house._

 _She stopped short. "Alison. We can't just leave…there's – there's a_ fire _in there. We have to tell someone."_

 _"_ _We can't," Alison snapped, whirling around and grabbing her wrist again. "Aria. Listen to me. If anyone finds out that we were in there, that we started that fire – it's not going to be pretty. Do you really want to risk messing up your family even more?"_

 _Aria opened her mouth to protest, to ask how her father's affair could be attributed to her at all, but shook her head, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket with a shaking hand. "I'm calling 911. No one has to know it was me. But I'm not letting anyone innocent get hurt."_

…

 _The Bill of Rights was established to pacify the fears of the Anti-Federalists and secure the personal freedom of the –_

"Wow, this is from the day we went to the lake. Remember?"

Spencer sighed, letting the pencil drop from her hand as she raised her head from her desk. Hanna was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair falling in her face and her head bent over the thick scrapbook in her lap.

"I remember," she said, but didn't get up to look. After a moment, she went back to her essay.

"Ali was always in the middle," Hanna blurted after a few minutes of silence. "In every picture of the five of us. Have you ever noticed?"

"Hanna," Spencer huffed, finally setting aside her notebook and looking up. Since Alison's body was found buried beneath the gazebo plot, she and the others had started reconnecting. It was almost like old times…except it couldn't be, especially when all four of them were together. It almost felt like they had to leave a fifth chair empty. "We have a six page history essay due tomorrow," she admonished her friend. "Have you even started it yet?"

"Well, I'm sorry!" Hanna exclaimed indignantly, throwing out her arms. "But I can't concentrate! It hasn't even been two weeks since Ali's body was found – underneath a big, red letter 'A.'" She set aside the scrapbook and scooted to the end of Spencer's bed, wrapping her arms across her stomach. "What do you think it means?"

With one last longing look at the only halfway completed essay, Spencer relented, joining Hanna on the edge of the bed and frowning. "I can't say I haven't thought about it," she admitted. "But I have no idea. I mean, I assume the 'A' stands for Alison…"

"But who would know that her body was buried there?" Hanna cut in, looking a bit revolted.

Spencer shook her head, feeling a little sick herself. She hadn't seen the letter that had been painted, in bright red, across the exact spot where Alison's body lay, but it was all over the news. What did it mean? Who'd put it there…and why?

But despite the growing rumors, the police were strangely quiet about the mysterious letter. They claimed publicly that their main goal was finding out the cause of death, and the person behind it. But Spencer got the feeling that they just didn't want to admit that it had taken such an obvious clue for them to discover the body of a girl who had been missing for an entire year.

"There's only one person who could know for sure that Ali's body was buried under that gazebo," she announced to Hanna, glancing up to meet her friend's eyes. "The person who killed her."

Hanna shuddered, and the conversation petered out quickly after that. Spencer returned to her essay, but didn't even get through another page before Hanna left, claiming a headache. She'd looked queasy ever since their conversation about Alison.

Spencer sat alone in her room as the sun sank behind the horizon, giving way to a pitch black, clear night. She was home alone – her parents were at a business dinner, and Melissa was off in Philly, meeting with the decorator for her new condo.

She sighed and pushed her six page essay aside, stifling a yawn. It wasn't good. In fact, it was probably the worst essay she'd ever written, thanks to her wandering mind as she'd written it. But it was done, and she was just about to go and take a shower when a creak resounded through the house.

Spencer jumped, caught off guard. But after a moment she rolled her eyes at herself, and at her pounding heart. Her house was old. It was always making weird noises as it settled at night.

"Stop freaking yourself out," she told herself, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she heard it again. A long, low creak, like someone walking over the wooden floor in the entryway.

Spencer's head snapped up at the sound, her breath catching in her throat. Okay. This was getting a little freaky. "Mom?" she called, moving cautiously into the hallway and peering down the stairs. "Dad? Are you guys home?"

There was no response, and yet Spencer couldn't rid herself of the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She flicked on the hall light and began moving carefully down the stairs.

As soon as she caught sight of the living room, she gasped. The back door was wide open, leading out into the dark night. The latch, which she'd locked after Hanna had left earlier, was broken on the ground.

Spencer practically fell the rest of the way down the stairs, her eyes fixed on the open door. "Hello?" she called out, her voice wavering. "Melissa?"

But even as she said the words, she knew that they were in vain. Whoever had done this, it wasn't anyone who should be here. Someone had broken in. She glanced back up the stairs, picturing her phone, laying right side up on her nightstand. If she could just run upstairs and get it…

A dark figure rose, popping like a demented jack in the box from behind the sofa, and Spencer screamed, backing up to the edge of the stairs. She took a step back blindly, backed up against the staircase, and the person – wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled tight around their face, when she looked closer – ran right toward her.

Spencer held out her arms in hopes to shield her face as the person slammed into her, knocking her against the steps. "What do you want?" she yelled, scrambling to her feet. She braced herself for another attack, but once her vision, momentarily blurred from smacking her head against the wooden stair, returned to normal, she realized that she was alone.

The black clad figure was gone, and the door was shut tight.

The back of her head throbbing, it took Spencer a moment to get her bearings. "What the hell?" she gasped under her breath, taking in gulps of air to try to calm her pounding heart. She could not believe that she had just been attacked in her own home.

But the strange thing was…everything looked normal. Aside from the latch to the back door, lying broken on the ground, nothing was out of place or missing. Had she stopped the burglar before they had been able to grab anything? Or had that person not been a burglar at all?

Spencer stood at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on something propped against the sofa. Moving closer, she squinted through the dark and frowned. It was a shovel. An old, battered shovel, half covered with dirt, that looked strikingly familiar. A note was tied to the handle with a string.

She crept closer, glancing around warily. Obviously whoever had broken in had left this for her to find. She stooped down and grabbed the shovel, turning it over in her hands before pulling off the note.

 _Now you know how I felt. –A_

Spencer gasped, both the note and shovel falling from her hands. The metal shovel clanged as it hit the floor, but she barely noticed.

No. There was no way…there was just no way…

But she looked once more at the note, written in large, bright red, messy print. The attack, the shovel, the note…it all led back to the one secret that Spencer had kept buried for so long.

She sat down hard on the couch, her eyes not leaving the signature of the note. There was only one person who could possibly know about this, and that person was Alison. But Alison couldn't have done this. Alison couldn't be alive. It was impossible.

Because Spencer had killed her.

…

That girl is stronger than she looks.

I rub my forearm as I walk around the back of the Hastings' house, but even the pain in my shoulder doesn't stop me from grinning.

Leaving a note that makes it sound like it's from Alison. Genius! I can't believe I didn't think of this before. Being stalked by someone who knows your secrets is bad enough. But being stalked by your old, dead friend – particularly the friend you _killed?_

Priceless!

I creep around the side of the house and peer through the back door, the same one that I broke in through not long ago. I don't imagine that I have to worry about Spencer spotting me, and I'm right. She's sitting on the sofa with her back to the door, gazing down at the shovel in her lap and the note in her hands.

I smile to myself and turn away, looking out into the yard and at the large barn. I deserve an award for not only the effort, but the creativity that I'm putting into this. My only regret is that I hadn't thought of posing as Alison from the very start.

...

 **Whoa, what do you think about Spencer's secret? And A obviously isn't Alison, but could she really still be alive?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to potterjay92, AWPuRpLePoPtArT, nick2951, mde, and BlueIceFire995 for reviewing, and to everyone who followed and favorited. I just finished writing this chapter and didn't get a chance to proof it, but I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!**

Chapter 5

Aria's eyes flew open with a start. She flung herself into a sitting position, her purse racing with both fear and adrenaline.

She looked around wildly, aware only that she was not in her bed or even in her house. It took her a moment of panic to realize that she was lying on the couch in Spencer's living room, with the bright glow of the early morning sun shining on her face.

"What?" Aria muttered, frowning as she pushed herself up on her elbows. The last thing she remembered was doing her homework the night before, just after dinner. Everything after seven o'clock was…just one big blur.

This was happening more and more frequently to be normal, and Aria felt herself grow anxious as she looked around the Hastings' living room, completely clueless to how she'd gotten there or what had happened overnight.

"Hey." Spencer appeared down the stairs, walking over and sitting down on the arm of the couch. "You're up."

"What time is it?" Aria said dazedly, still feeling a little like her body and brain were disconnected from each other.

"Early," Spencer answered, furrowing her brow. "School doesn't start for another half hour. How are you doing?"

Aria stared at her in confusion and shock, trying her hardest to think back to what on earth she could have been doing the previous night. But all she came up with was a big blank. "I'm…I'm fine. Spence, what, um – what happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" Spencer asked in alarm, but then shook her head. "I guess that makes sense. You were pretty out of it."

That didn't do much to settle Aria's growing nerves. "I don't remember anything."

"Someone broke into my house last night," her friend explained, shifting her position and sliding down to sit on the edge of the sofa, squeezing in beside Aria. "I went outside a while after they ran away to make sure nothing looked off, and I found you asleep right outside the barn. I woke you up and brought you in here, but you were totally out of it, you didn't even seem yourself."

For some reason, that last part unnerved Aria far more than learning that she had somehow ended up asleep, outside, two streets over from her house. "What do you mean? Why didn't I seem like myself?"

Spencer frowned, grabbing her mug of coffee from the table and taking a long sip. "You kept muttering to yourself about Alison," she admitted finally, with obvious reluctance. She eyed Aria almost nervously. "I couldn't understand the rest of what you were saying, just the words 'Ali' and 'fire' over and over again."

Aria felt her heart skip a beat. There was only one incident that connected those two words, and she'd tried harder than anything to repress the memory of that horrible day. Obviously that hadn't worked so well.

Thoroughly unsettled, she forced herself into an upright position. There was no way that she could tell Spencer about what she and Alison had done that day in her father's office. If any of her friends found out, they would never look at her the same way.

"I must have fallen asleep early," she said with a forced laugh, trying to keep her voice light. "Sometimes I sleepwalk when that happens."

Spencer offered a small smile in return, but didn't look anywhere near convinced. "I'm not sure. You weren't really acting like a typical sleepwalker."

Aria shrugged and heaved herself off of the couch, ignoring how shaky she felt. "When has anything about any of our lives been typical?" She glanced at the clock above the fireplace. "Hey, do you have any clothes I can borrow? I can't go to school looking like this." She gestured to the wrinkled skirt and top that she wore.

Spencer's eyebrows shot up, her face assuming the classic "you've got to be kidding" look that Aria was so familiar with. "You're not seriously thinking about going to school today, are you?"

That was actually the last thing that Aria felt like doing, but she knew that if she wanted to make sure her secret stayed a secret, she needed to act like everything was normal. "Spence," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I was sleepwalking. It's not a big deal."

Again, the taller girl merely gave her another doubting look, raising an eyebrow and going to refill her coffee mug. "You look pretty pale," she called back, looking Aria up and down. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Aria said breezily, moving toward the stairs. "I'm gonna go find something to wear in your closet, okay?"

"Sure," Spencer said faintly, and Aria practically raced up the stairs. She didn't allow the fear on her face to show until she was fully closed in Spencer's room, totally alone.

Because the truth was, Aria hadn't sleepwalked once in her life. Something was wrong with her, she was becoming more sure if it by the day. And she was starting to get scared.

…

"So did you do it?"

"Mona! God!" Hanna's math book slipped out of her hands and hit the tile floor with a _bang._ She knelt down to pick it up, grimacing.

"Well, did you?" Mona raised her eyebrows, finally looking up from her phone. She sighed at Hanna's expression. "I thought the whole reason you were going to Noel's party was so you and Sean could – "

"It's not _my_ fault, okay?" Hanna snapped, clutching her math book to her chest and not meeting her friend's eyes. "I was totally ready. But Sean avoided me all night. He's been acting really weird lately."

"Speaking of which," Mona muttered cryptically, nodding at something down the hallway. Hanna glanced back to see Sean walking quickly toward them. His eyes were locked on Hanna, narrowed angrily. "More trouble in paradise?"

"I'll see you later," Hanna said, and Mona walked off just as Sean approached, looking even angrier up close. "Hey," she said hesitantly. "What's up?"

"What's up?" Sean repeated coolly, folding his arms. "What you should really be asking is what's up between _us,_ Hanna?"

She took a shaky step back, stunned. "What do you mean? There's nothing _up_ between us."

"You've been acting weird for weeks," he said, leaning against the locker beside hers. "Jittery, nervous, not responding to my texts…" He trailed off, shaking his head and looking at her as if waiting for an explanation.

Hanna could only stare back at him, her mind spinning. _She'd_ been acting weird? She'd been jittery and nervous over the last few weeks because she wanted to have _sex_ with him! And it had taken until last night at Noel's party, after she'd left Spencer's, for her to gather the courage to tell him. And _he_ was the one who hadn't been there for her.

She opened her mouth to say all of this, but he reached into his pocket and stuck his phone in her face before she could even take a breath. "And then this morning, I get _this._ "

Hanna reached out, taking the phone and holding it up to read the message.

 _Wonder what's been going on with your girlfriend? Maybe you should ask the new kid. –A_

"Who the hell is 'A'?" Sean said, his voice low as kids passed them, glancing curiously in their direction. Hanna let out a little squeak of surprise. She'd never heard Sean – a pastor's son – swear before.

"I have no idea," she whispered, sure that her heart had stopped beating. She felt rooted to the floor. A was contacting _other people_ now, too?

"It's Caleb Rivers, isn't it?" Sean kept going, grabbing the phone back and shoving it in his pocket. "He's always looking at you in civics. I should have known something was up between you."

"What? Sean, _nothing_ is going on! I don't even know Caleb!" Hanna insisted, stepping forward and reaching out desperately to touch his arm. "The reason I've been acting so weird is – "

"You know what? I don't want to hear it." Sean yanked his arm away, looking at her almost in disgust. "I can't do this anymore, Hanna. We're done."

Hanna felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath her. Just twelve hours ago she'd been doing her makeup in the car, her stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement at _finally_ doing it with Sean, and now…this.

"Sean, please. I would never – " she started in frantically, but he was already walking away, his back toward her.

Hanna stared after him, her first and only boyfriend, shocked. How could he do this to her? How could he blindly believe some anonymous text that she'd cheated on him, over his girlfriend that he'd known for years? How did A possibly have that much power?

Her phone chimed inside her purse, and she pulled it out with a sigh. If this was Mona, asking for details, she wasn't sure she could handle it.

But she would have preferred that to the message that popped up on her screen.

 _Remember, Han. Cheaters never win. –A_

Hanna dropped her phone back into her bag like it was on fire. First the big red letter "A" painted over the site of Alison's body. Then the text to Sean, and now this.

Who was this person…and what did they want?

…

Most people would be pretty disgusted if they had to build their evil lair in a dusty, cobweb filled attic.

But I kind of like it.

It's mysterious, I decide as I step back, admiring the wooden dollhouse that I've just placed on a grimy old table. There's so much crap up here, I'm surprised I managed to make enough room for all of my things.

I gaze into the tiny rooms of the dollhouse, smiling. Attics are tucked away from everything else. Attics hold secrets. So what better place for me, the ultimate secret-keeper, to call my home?

But there's still one thing missing. I reach into the last cardboard box at my feet and pull out four dolls. They're custom-made – I paid a pretty penny for these things. But it's so worth it as I run my finger along the realistic face of the smallest one.

I arrange the dolls in the dollhouse and can't help but grin.

My four dolls. And my fun with them has just started.

...

 **Please review! The next chapter is when the four girls finally all get together to discuss their situation.**


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys, I am so sorry that it's been a whole week since I updated! I was planning on getting this up on Wednesday, but I've been so busy that it just couldn't happen. Thanks to everyone who reviewed - I love getting your feedback! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the long wait! Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 6

"Okay, wait. _What_ happened again?"

"I woke up in Spencer's _backyard._ And it wasn't even the middle of the night or anything, it was, like, eight o'clock. Isn't that weird?" Aria raised a hand to her pounding forehead, closing her eyes.

Ezra frowned at her, shifting his position under the weight of her legs, draped across his lap. "You don't think it could have just been sleepwalking?"

"That's what I thought at first," Aria replied adamantly. "But I don't remember going to sleep. I was sitting at home, doing my homework, and suddenly Spencer was waking me up. I have no idea how I got there."

"I hope it wasn't English homework," Ezra said with a chuckle, but the joke fell flat between them, partly because of Aria's distress and partly because of their strange relationship situation. After an awkward moment, he shook his head and added, "You probably just don't remember falling asleep. It's weird, but I'm sure it's nothing."

Aria settled back against the couch, satisfied, and tried to turn back to the old movie playing in front of them. But her hands fiddled in her lap, and she couldn't concentrate. She needed to tell him. She needed to get it all out or she'd explode.

"But that's not all," she blurted suddenly, and Ezra glanced at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't the first time I haven't been able to remember something," Aria explained, pulling her legs off of his lap and sitting up. "Ever since I've been back from Iceland, it's like I've been…I don't know, losing time, or something."

Ezra leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at her intently. "Well, that doesn't sound good. But I'm still not really sure – "

Aria cut him off, suddenly jittery with nerves. "Like, the first time we met. On the sidewalk that day a few weeks ago? The last thing I remember before that was driving past Alison's old house. I didn't remember parking, or getting out of my car…it's like I lost a whole chunk of time that day. And it keeps happening." She pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling tears burning behind her eyes.

"Hey, calm down," Ezra said, taking her hand gently. "There has to be an explanation for this. But Aria, you have to tell your parents."

The tears disappeared, and Aria sat up straight, horrified. "I can't!"

Ezra furrowed his brow, taking hold of her arms and shifting to face her. "Aria. This could be serious. With memory loss this bad, there could really be something wrong – "

He kept talking, about possible brain injuries and MRI scans and how this could get worse, but Aria wasn't listening. She stared past Ezra's shoulder at the window, her mind traveling back to that day the previous summer, with Alison in her father's office. She closed her eyes and fire danced in her vision.

"I'm not telling my parents," she said firmly, interrupting Ezra mid-sentence. If she told her parents that she was having strangely vivid nightmares and missing entire chunks of her life, it would just open up a million more questions. And she felt sure that at some point, the true cause of the fire in her father's office would come up.

Aria couldn't do that. Things had been so good in her family since they'd come back from Iceland. She couldn't destroy that. She couldn't do that to her parents.

And besides…she thought back to that day again, of Alison persuading her to light the match, of the fire spreading before their eyes, of her frantic voice as she called 911. It all made sense, and it was all so vivid in her memory. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to that day than she knew, that something was missing.

She needed to find out what it was before she told _anyone_ about that awful day.

Ezra was looking at her like she really had gone insane. "Aria – "

"No," she repeated, jumping to her feet as he reached out for her. "You know what, I'm sure it's nothing. I totally overreacted."

Ezra got up as well, shaking his head. "I don't know. What's going on with you sounds serious. You don't want this to get worse."

"It's fine," Aria said too quickly, backing toward the door. "And I'm fine. Forget I said anything, my body's probably still just getting used to be back here." She grabbed her purse from the chair by the door and reached up, kissing him briefly on the cheek. "I'll see you in class."

She darted out of his apartment before he could protest. Out in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and sighed, breathing hard. She needed a break from thinking about all of this. She couldn't deal with being inside her own head anymore.

Heading for the stairs, Aria pulled out her phone and wrote out a text to her friends. Maybe a nice, normal lunch would get her mind off of things.

…

Emily got out of her car in front of the Apple Rose Grille just as Spencer and Hanna were doing the same. "Guys," she called, waving them over. Hanna bounced over first, smiling, but Spencer hung back by the door to the Grille, looking anxious.

"Are you okay, Spence?" Emily asked as the three girls headed inside.

"What?" Spencer's head snapped up, and she looked around the restaurant for a moment as if unsure how she'd even got there. "Um, yeah, fine, just…tired."

"You're not the only one," Hanna said. "I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in, like, two weeks." Behind her joking tone, Emily detected a note of definite sadness.

She sighed, following her friends across the room to where Aria sat alone in a booth, waving them over. It seemed like no one had been the same since Alison's body had been found. And Emily wasn't sure if she ever _would_ be the same.

"Hey guys," Aria greeted as the girls slid into the booth. Emily noticed the shakiness in her voice, too. "Sorry my text was so last minute."

"Please," Spencer said, rolling her eyes. "I'd do anything to get away from Melissa right now. She's obsessed with finding the right paint color for her new condo."

"And I just needed to get away," Hanna added with a shrug, but didn't elaborate.

Emily's eyes landed on Aria, who was staring at the glass of water in front of her, her eyes slightly glazed. Her face was pale. "Aria? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" The shorter girl shook her head as if coming out of a trance, meeting Emily's gaze. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

Emily raised her eyebrows dubiously. Why did this keep happening? What was _wrong_ with everybody today?

"Daydreaming about all the cute boys in Iceland?" Spencer asked, smirking. "I bet coming back to Rosewood was a disappointment."

"It's been…weird, that's for sure," Aria muttered, shrugging.

Emily grimaced. There was a sour taste in her mouth. "Poor Ali," she murmured, staring down at the table. For the hundredth time that week, she thought about the big red "A" painted over the spot of Alison's body, and the creepy note signed with the same letter. The note that knew about her secret.

Were the two events connected? Emily opened her mouth to bring this up, but stopped herself, the words on her lips. Everyone was already acting so jumpy. This would be the worst possible time to bring up the letter she'd possibly received from their dead best friend.

"Okay, I'm giving in," Hanna declared, smacking the menu that she'd been holding down on the table and breaking the sad silence that had settled over the group. "This week has been hell. I need cheesy fries."

"I'd offer to share with you, but I think I need my own," Spencer added.

Emily laughed along with the others, feeling light and free for the first time since the start of the school year. At times like these, if she closed her eyes and didn't think about everything that had changed, she could pretend that it was still freshman year, that her and her four best friends were crowded around a table at the Grille, exchanging friendship bracelets.

Feeling another pang in her heart, she grabbed her glass and lifted it to her lips, watching the water tilt toward her as she took a sip. And then she noticed the letter that was written in the condensation on the bottom of the glass.

 _A._

Emily gasped in surprise, the glass nearly slipping from the grasp. She set it down hard on the table, and her three friends turned to her.

"What's wrong, Em?" Aria asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Nothing," Emily stammered, trying to get another look at the bottom of her glass without being obvious about it. "It's just – I thought – "

Naturally, it was Spencer who caught on first. She lifted her own water glass, holding it up to see the bottom. Her eyes widened. "You guys. Check the bottoms of your glasses."

Hanna and Aria immediately obeyed, and a tense moment of silence spread across the table. " _A,_ " Hanna whispered, her face paling.

"You don't think…that this has something to do with what was written over Ali's body, do you?" Aria asked, biting her lip so hard that a spot of blood bloomed there.

The words burst out of Emily before she could stop them. "I got a message from A. The day after Ali's body was found, there was a letter in my mailbox."

"Really?" Hanna leaned forward, and Emily noticed the look in her eyes. Not fear, or surprise, but curiosity. And something that looked a little like relief. "What did it say?"

But this time, Emily forced the words back. Toby had taken the fall for the accident that had blinded Jenna. She and Ali had gotten off scot-free. No one had even known that they'd been near the Cavanaugh house that night.

And Emily wanted to keep it that way. Not just because admitting that she'd set that fire would make her look horrible. She knew that these girls would take that secret to their graves. But she and Ali had sworn each other to secrecy that night. And even though Ali was gone, it felt wrong to break that promise. Like it would be disrespectful in some way.

"Just…just some creepy message," she only half-lied after an awkward hesitation. The note had certainly been creepy. That part wasn't a lie.

"I got one too," Hanna burst out, her eyes wide. "A few days ago. Except mine was a text."

"So did I," Spencer practically whispered, her eyes on a painting of a field on the wall beside their table, and Aria nodded silently.

"But who could be doing this to us?" Hanna asked, lowering her voice. "I don't know about you guys, but the tone of the note I got sounded a lot like…"

"Alison," Emily cut in flatly. That was the first thought she'd had when she'd read the letter in her mailbox, too. "And A knows something about me that only Ali knew."

"Same with me," Aria agreed. "Maybe Ali told someone all of the things she swore to keep secret."

"Ali definitely knew all of my secrets," Hanna said, almost bitterly. "But none of us knew anything about her. Not really."

"Ali wouldn't have told anyone," Emily protested. She wouldn't have spilled Emily's secret, at least. Admitting to anyone that Emily had set the fire would incriminate herself just as much. And Alison was all about self-preservation.

"So what are we saying?" Aria asked with a harsh laugh. "That Ali is still alive?"

"Either that or she's back from the dead," Hanna joked, rolling her eyes.

Emily turned to Spencer, the girl who always seemed to come up with all of the answers. "What do you think, Spence?"

But Spencer had gone strangely quiet, and was staring down at the tabletop. It was almost like she hadn't heard Emily at all.

…

Every time the doorbell rings, I get excited. After all, I order so much online for my little game that sometimes I lose track. Opening a package is like Christmas.

I take the package from the deliveryman and examine the company name on the front of the box. Oh, yes. Of course. I've been expecting this.

The man – who really doesn't look that much older than me – holds out a clipboard, and I take it, signing it with a flourish.

 _Aria Montgomery._

Then I hand the clipboard back and shut the door in his face. I don't feel bad. If I was nice to everyone I meet, I wouldn't be able to pull this off.

My heart pounding with excitement, I rush up to the attic – my lair – and sit cross-legged on the ground, ripping open the box. A beautiful red glass heart is nestled inside, with the name _Hanna_ written in write print across it.

It's so lovely that I almost regret what I'm about to do to it. Whoever said that you must suffer for your art was right, I guess.

I set the glass heart down on a piece of wax paper and find a hammer in one of the boxes that I've stacked under the table where the dollhouse sits. Without letting myself think, I slam the hammer down on the heart, watching the glass splinter and crack beneath it. The letters that make up Hanna's name distort.

I smile down at the broken heart in front of me. But this one was just practice. Now it's time for the real thing.

...

 **I hope you enjoyed. What do you think A has in mind for Hanna? And yes, that little bit at the end is confirmation - if it wasn't clear already - that Aria is indeed A. But now the question is...why?**


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